I just saw excerpts of Beijing Opera tonight as part of the continuing research for the play The Forbidden Phoenix. My song writing partner Bob was there as well. The tough thing about Beijing Opera is like any opera; language is a barrier. However, from watching the excerpts, I also started to realize that opera isn't about theatre or story; it's about showcasing singing and visual spectacle. Somehow, I have to figure out how to marry the spectacle with the drama of an engaging story. One can't dominate the other or else The Forbidden Phoenix will fail. It's going to be tough trying to strike a balance between the two, but Bob and I will figure out the solution. We're getting together in June to bash out the songs for the show. I'm looking forward to it; I haven't collaborating in a while and it's fun to have another person to bounce ideas around.
May 2004 Archives
I'm paralyzed with indecision and feeling overwhelmed by all the work that I have to do. Maybe I just need to find a couple of days to get my bearings, but I just feel like there aren't enough hours in the day. My wife tells me to break down all my activities into tasks that can be accomplished in half an hour. My problem is that when I do that, I get a five page list and I start to freak out.
If anyone has strategies to tackle a mountain of work without going full out 24/7, I'd love for you to share them. I could use a little advice right about now. Thanks!
I just got back from my road trip to Calgary. I read at the McNally Robinson book store as part of Asian Heritage Month. I was very impressed with the store. It was three stories high. The reaction was great. I was thrilled that members of the Writers Guild of Alberta made it out to the reading. Frances and Dee, thanks so much for coming out on the night the Flames played the decisive game.
After I left the reading, I could hear the Flames fans go wild as Calgary won a berth in the Stanley Cup playoffs. It was very cool; I hadn't realized that it's been 10 years since a Canadian team has been in the finals. Go Flames!
Today, I did two readings at Georges H. Primeau Junior High School, which is in my home town -- Morinville. I read to grade six classes and they were excellent. They had tons of questions about the book. They were also studying a unit on China and wanted a personal perspective on the country. I was able to tell them about my last visit to Beijing.
The interesting thing about doing a reading at a school in my home town was the flurry of questions about who I knew when I was in school. A lot of kids were the sons and daughters of my former classmates. Names flew at me. Some I recognized; some I didn't. The effect was a bumpy ride down memory lane. To cap it all off, Leanne, the school librarian, gave me a copy of the school year book from the year I graduated. It was the perfect give because I had never hung on to my year books.
For the last few hours, I've been looking at all the pictures of bad 80s hair styles, pimply faces, and hints of facial hair. When I saw my grad picture, I got a glaring reminder of why Chinese men should never get perms. Back to the year book.
This will be a tough week on my voice. I went to Kildare school on Monday to read my book to elementary students. I had 5 back to back sessions. Tomorrow, I go Morinville to do 2 sessions, then on Thursday I'm in Saskatoon for a reading.
I enjoy the opportunity to read my book to the kids, and I keep discovering new ways to deliver the text to get a laugh or to play with the pacing. It's a good reminder for my theatre work. I should read my scripts aloud before I submit them to producers. I learn a lot when I hear the text. Mainly, I learn how the words flow (or don't flow as the case may be).
I'm encouraged by the reaction of students and adults alike. The good news I heard today is that Thistledown has ordered a second printing of the book.
Okay, it's not pretty but it's done. I just printed out what I call my "ugly" draft of Repose, the play that will be produced at the Edmonton Fringe Festival this summer. There's a beginning, a middle, and sort of an end. I'm going to re-work the scenes tomorrow morning so that they make some kind of sense.
On Sunday evening, I have to deliver the draft to the actors who are producing and performing the play at the festival. This is probably the hardest part of the process for me. I just had cavities filled last week, and the experience of going to the dentist is very similar to handing over the first draft. I imagine all the terrible things that will happen when I hand over the draft or when I sit in the dentist's chair. Many times, what I imagine is much worse than what actually happens.
The only way through it all is to take deep breaths and remember that a first draft is a starting point. Breathe. Breathe. Where's the Novacaine?
I'm sweating it out right now trying to finish the first draft of Repose, my new Fringe play. It's about the affair between Impressionist painters Edouard Manet and Berthe Morisot. I promised to deliver a first draft Sunday night, but I'm stumped right now about the script. I know generally what I need to do, but trying to motivate myself to crank out the pages seems impossible. I figure Saturday is going to be one long day. I've got to run out and get some Jolt cola and Mars bars.
The good news is that I'm handing in a first draft, which means I get another couple of kicks at the script to get it right. I'm a better rewriter than writer. For some strange reason, I like fixing problems rather than inventing story. okay, enough procrastinating; I have to get to work.
I just came back from the book launch of The Mystery of the Frozen Brains, and I was humbled by the outpouring of support from family, friends, fans, and the general public. I felt like I was the groom at a wedding reception, but without the tuxedo and embarrassing drunk uncle.
The most emotional moment came about halfway through the event. My first best friend ever, Jay, inspired one of the main characters in the book, but I hadn't talked to him in 15 years. In one of my interviews, I recounted my friendship with him and how we had lost touch. Jay read the article about how we used to play hockey together, and came to the launch with his hockey stick and gloves.
As soon as I saw him, I knew who he was. I was so happy to see him again after all these years. Suddenly, I was 9 years old again and had my whole life in front of me. I'll never forget that moment.
Thank you to everyone who came to the launch. Your support meant the world to me.
